


Cultivation

by genarti



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Friendship, gratuitous symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Combeferre, and a cherry orchard, in late April of 1832.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultivation

**Author's Note:**

> The genesis of this fic is that one night in chat, PilferingApples and I were trying to explain the symbolic weight of cherry blossoms in Japanese culture to bobbiewickham, and Pilf said something along the lines of, "If Victor Hugo had known about it, Enjolras would have to pay a gamin to shovel cherry blossoms off the sidewalk around him _all the time_." Also, there was an Enjolras-Combeferre fic week going on around then.
> 
> Somehow, out of those two facts and a lot of procrastination, I ended up with this.
> 
> (This is in no way AT ALL a crossover with actual Japanese culture, though. This is a fic set in 1832 France which happens to include a cherry tree in spring.)
> 
> As of August 2016, Cultivation has been translated into Mandarin Chinese by skyandfields!! [春蕾](http://bingoavenue.lofter.com/post/1d3cbcce_c1c0f16) is their translation.

Combeferre turned his steps towards the small orchard. "Well!" he said; "you are unlikely to hold a preference between one spot and another, Enjolras – or so I suspect. You are blind to even the most orderly beauties of nature. Please inform me if I am wrong."

Enjolras smiled faintly at the teasing. "You are not."

"I thought not. Then I will sit here."

Enjolras seated himself on the grass beside his friend. The sun spread gently over them the warmth of late spring, sweet air, growing things nurtured. The sky was that clear and perfect blue which only a few April days are so generous as to display. Enjolras folded his hands upon his knee and fell into an abstraction of thought. 

Combeferre beside him was similarly occupied. Where Enjolras's gaze was fixed unseeing upon the horizon, however, Combeferre turned his attention to the earth, then the branches above them, then the sky beyond, and back to the soil. His thoughts were no less deep, but he turned them to more matters, simultaneously and in succession. At length he gave voice to a soft, "Ah!" and reached down.

He had found a small object, the size of a man's thumb, the color of dark honey, with the same translucence, split down the middle, entirely hollow. It was an empty cocoon. He turned it over in his fingers thoughtfully.

Enjolras had no interest in entomology. All the same, he directed at Combeferre an inquiring glance of that sort which stems from friendship rather than curiosity, and betokens a willingness to listen to the interests of another.

"The cocoon of a codling moth." Combeferre proferred the cocoon in illustration. " _Phalaena Tinea pomonella_ , as Linnaeus called it, though I recall that Treitschke has recently advocated another classification – I cannot recall the precise name. I believe it still specified apples, however. I understand the desire for brevity, but I am not sure it's sufficiently justified in this case. Science ought to be accurate above all else, or what is the point?"

"Because this is a cherry tree."

"Because this is a cherry tree, whose fruit this moth as a worm once fed upon; because there are pear trees and apricots and even walnuts in similar case. If there were different species entirely – if there were any proof that the creature had in some historic era fed exclusively on apples – in such cases, of course, the name would be perfectly reasonable. I know of no such cause."

Enjolras listened with tolerant affection.

Combeferre laughed softly, setting the cocoon back on the green grass. It lay like a pen upon an abandoned desk, once vital to its owner, now merely clutter. "Never mind. We came here to speak of another canker."

"Yes." Enjolras straightened. The change of subject introduced as it were a galvanic reaction of the soul; he hardly moved, but he was energized. His glance was a spark. "I have been speaking with several of our friends."

As chief of the Amis de l'A.B.C., Enjolras kept in his memory not only the names of many contacts among their fellow societies, but also information they passed among themselves. He spoke of this now to Combeferre, low-voiced, under cover of the spring wind. They waited for an event which might spark the smoldering anger of all Paris together into open flame, and set off a carefully laid fuse to a powder-keg of revolution. Enjolras laid out these discussions, and details of the numbers and supplies which might be brought to bear to that end. Combeferre had not heard all this latest intelligence; he listened quietly, adding mild suggestions as they occurred to him.

"There are rumors of a new law that will limit the worst punishments of the criminal code," said Combeferre at length.

"A sop."

"Of course. Still, I cannot scoff at any limit to these abuses of the citizenry."

"The abuse continues. Those arrested are still given trial without their rights fully respected, and tossed into the king's jails to rot. The ministers throw the people a small bone now and again, as if to dogs under the table; their hunger for true justice goes unsatisfied. I don't think they'll pass any law which comes near to contenting the people. They would not dare. It goes against the principles most of them claim. They could never agree. We need not worry about this new law, I think. It will not distract from the groundswell."

"All right. I wish in a way that they would – still, I agree."

"If the law passes we'll have to respond, of course. Point out the inadequacies, the fundamental oppression left intact. I know you're busy, my friend, but I hope you'll have time to read over the reply in draft."

"I will find the time."

Enjolras touched his arm briefly in thanks. "Soon," he said, "soon the day will come when we strike in concert at the root of these injustices. No more pamphlets against this law or that, signed anonymously, written in the shadow of a despot. We will not need to call our brothers to join us; they will stand at our sides. Barricades will rise in the streets of Paris. The monarchy will topple before them. This time we will not allow ourselves to be betrayed in the hour of victory."

That same hope flamed in Combeferre's heart, no less bright for the grief already mingled with it. Still, he looked at his friend thoughtfully. "Promise me something, Enjolras."

"I can hardly imagine you asking anything I would deny."

"If I die – whether it's in the coming storm or this cholera, or I suppose anything else – if I die and you live, my dear friend, promise me that you will listen to our other friends when they counsel peace or caution. With greater attention than you do now."

Enjolras was silent for a moment; then he grasped Combeferre's hand, and did not release it. "I would hear your voice an echo in every word. I promise that I will try to heed it no less than I do now."

Combeferre pressed his hand. "Then I am content."

"I need not ask you to do your best to avoid either fate."

Combeferre smiled. "Indeed, you need not."

Enjolras returned his smile.

A gust of wind tossed the tree's thin branches, and sent a brief whirlwind of petals spiraling about them. Enjolras turned his gaze to the blue horizon. He seemed to see beyond it to the intangible future; he ignored with perfect unconcern the shower of pale flowers, though a few came to rest on his upturned palm; he barely saw them. Combeferre looked at him with deep affection through the soft rain of blossoms. "The storm will come, and soon. Already there's thunder in the air. But if we are lucky, fate will allow us all to share whatever it brings. I can think of no finer men with whom to stand."

"Nor I," said Combeferre.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ryfkah, as always, for the beta!
> 
> If you want to know more about the history of studying codling moths than you ever imagined necessary, you too can wander around [this page](http://ipmnet.org/codlingmoth/bionomics/history.html) for a while. I spent quite a while reading it with a fairly ridiculous amount of glee. (If you just want to know what they _are_ , [wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Codling_moth) will tell you.)
> 
> The law Enjolras and Combeferre are discussing is a real one, but I don't know enough to have a really clear idea of how radical republicans of the time actually viewed it.


End file.
